Pest Control
by Nelbertine
Summary: A mysterious death in a Montana State forest leads the Fringe team to a military experiment with honest intentions but deadly results.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Fringe or its characters. Sadly!

Rated T for some violence and gruesome imagery. Us writers, we live for reviews, Man. Please help the next one be better.

**TOBACCO ROOT MOUNTAINS, MONTANA**

"Come on Jack, we'll be up here all day unless you pick 'em up and put 'em down a bit faster." Roger Wells continued up the trail towards the upper slopes of Thompson Peak, the warm July afternoon sun warming his back and causing Jack, his assistant and chief bag carrier, to sweat and gasp the air into his overworked lungs. Wells had been a forest ranger in South west Montana for 30 years, and knew the Tobacco Root Mountains as well as anyone alive. He was getting close to retirement age, though and he felt the pain in his knees and lower back on cold winter nights more than he used to. He knew the time was coming when he would have to call it a day, so he was anointing his successor through his own variation of trial by ordeal.

The mountains were at their best in the early summer. This high, the snowmelt was only a month gone, and the bitterroot were coming into brilliant, purple bloom. Butterflies flitted from plant to plant and the odd bee buzzed past, going on its relentless business oblivious of their presence. The pinion and lodgepole pines suffused the air with a fresh astringency that seemed to add freshness to the summer heat. They were well off the beaten track here, away from the lakeside tourists, water skiers, mountain bikers and trail runners. This part of the mountain range was off-limits in the summer to everyone except employees of the National Forestry service for a very good reason. This reason, in fact, explained why they had hiked up the mountain in 80 degree heat and the burning, relentless July sun. Bears.

Wells stopped at the end of the trail, and sat down on the trunk of a wind-felled pine and took a healthy swig of water from his canteen, wiping the sweat off his brow and the back of his neck with his bandana. Behind him, puffing and groaning like an underpowered steam train, Jack staggered the last few feet of trail and collapsed, bags scattered around him. He took a swig of water and lit a cigarette. Roger wrinkled his nose.

"If you plan to make a career out of this, you might want to quit." Jack grunted but continued to draw on his cigarette and admired the view over the massive wooded gorge that opened up in front of them. Here and there the trees were carved away from the slopes on the opposite side of the gorge by the long abandoned gold mines that had been worked in these mountains since the 1960's and now stood testament to the harshness and temporary nature of man's place in these endless horizons of wilderness. Behind them and all around where they sat, the air was filled with the noise of rushing water as the last of the winter snow melted on the slopes above them. It was quite beautiful.

"Takes your breath away doesn't it?" Roger gazed over the majesty as he spoke. It seemed as if the whole world was clad in pine trees, raging mountain peaks and grey-topped jagged peaks.  
"Well it takes one of our breaths away" Jack muttered. Roger slapped the younger man on the shoulder and laughed.  
"You'll thank me for this one day, Boy" he said jovially. Jack eyed him carefully.  
"Yeah, me and my hernia surgeon." Roger ignored the sarcasm because it was far too beautiful a day for his spirit to be dented by the less than joyful attitude of his young companion. Plus, there was work to do and this was as good a place to start as any.  
"Pass me the spotting scope, will you Jack?" Jack searched one of the three rucksacks he'd carried up the mountain and pulled out a small telescope and a tripod, handing it to Roger, who assembled it and started to scan the far slope. Jack watched him for a while, then got up.  
"I'm off to take a leak."  
Roger never took his eye away from the spotting scope eyepiece.  
"Be careful and watch where you step, it's a long walk down on a broken ankle."  
"Yeah yeah." Jack stepped into the trees, eyes on his feet despite the nonchalance with which he greeted Roger's advice. After a few yards of dense pine growth, the woodland opened out into a small glade. He went to unzip when he saw it, lying in the sun, surrounded by cotton grass and rocks.  
"Hey, Roger!"  
Roger sighed and moved his head away from the scope's eyepiece. He was starting to get the impression that this wasn't going to work out.  
"If you're lost, just retrace your steps!"  
"Roger, get over here, you need to see this!" Roger sighed deeply and got up, walking into the woods following the route Jack took. He caught up with Jack who was stood on the edge of the glade and caught sight of what Jack was staring at. He took out his bandana and wiped his head nervously.  
"Jack" he began, eyes not leaving the centre of the glade and the object lying in it. "Go get the radio. We're gonna need some help up here."

**BISHOP APARTMENT, BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS**

The phone ringing woke Peter up. He clawed blindly for the digital clock on his nightstand and groaned deeply when he read the time. He turned on the lamp by his bed, snatched up the phone and answered it in a voice still thick with sleep.  
"Bishop."  
"Hey Peter", it was Olivia. "So I was wondering, are you an outdoors kind of guy?" Peter was confused.  
"What? Am I what? Olivia, it's 4 in the morning!"

He sat up in bed and wondered whether she was ringing because she was having trouble sleeping again. "Are you OK?"  
"I'm fine Peter. We've got a case. Bring your hiking boots. I'll pick you up in 15 minutes!" She sounded far too excited for someone who should have been asleep.  
"Bring my what? Olivia?"

She'd hung up. Peter looked at the handset accusingly then dragged himself out of bed and trudged over to Walter's room.  
"Walter, time to get up, Olivia's picking us up in ten minutes."

Walter turned over and shook himself awake.  
"Peter, it's 4 in the morning!"

Peter looked at him, before shuffling off towards the shower.  
"I know. We have a case. We'll pick up some pancakes or something on the way," Peter mumbled, heading off the next complaint before it arrived.  
"On the way to where?" Walter got up and followed him into the corridor.  
Peter paused before closing the bathroom draw.  
"I have no idea Walter. She just said to bring hiking boots."

Walter smiled.  
"We're going camping. I love camping."

**COUNTY CORONERS OFFICE, BOZEMAN, MONTANA**.

It was a hot, sunny afternoon and Olivia, Peter, Astrid and Walter were stood outside the locked Coroners Office with the Bozeman County Sheriff, a lanky, moustached, leather-skinned man called Nelson and Angie Leeds, the head forestry service ranger for South West Montana. She had long red hair tied up in a bun and a gentle sarcasm that was immediately endearing. Olivia was clearly in her element. She'd swapped the normal work wear of plain business suits for jeans, hiking boots and an Northwestern running top. Peter had ribbed her mercilessly on the flight over, and even that hadn't dented her mood.  
"Where is the guy?" Peter stood in the shade of the roof overhang of the small log-built building, increasingly uncomfortable in the heat and still tired from being woken up at such an early hour.  
"He'll be along presently." Sheriff Nelson eyed Peter carefully from under the brow of his hat as he chewed slowly and deliberately on his gum. "What is it you do again, Mr Bishop?" Peter fixed the Sheriff with a steady gaze that was neither aggressive nor servile.  
"I work for the FBI, Sheriff. You know, the people you called?"

Olivia watched carefully. In spite of his work with Fringe division, there was still an edge to Peter around police. Most of the time he was able to hide it completely, but when he was tired or pissed, it did rise to the surface. Sheriff Nelson had picked up on it pretty much immediately and Olivia could see it had bothered him, so he'd pressed a little. It was good to see, it always helped when local law enforcement were good at their jobs, made her life much easier. As for Peter, well she knew better than anyone that he was perfectly able to look after himself. Nevertheless, there was no point to an argument now. She walked over to stand next to Peter.  
"Sheriff, is there any way we can speed this up a bit?"

Nelson looked at Peter and turned his eyes on Olivia.  
"I guess he'll turn up when he turn's up, Agent Dunham. What's the rush? The guy on the table ain't goin' nowhere."  
"But I am Zeke, if Len doesn't haul his ass out of O'Leary's bar and get over here in the next two minutes." It was Ranger Leeds, who appeared to be as pissed at the situation as Peter was. "You might have all day to stand round on the street in 85 degrees of hot and dusty, but I've got work to do." She looked at Peter. "I gotta show these folks where we found the poor son-of-a-bitch." The Sheriff grunted and picked up his radio.  
"John? Go find Len Wallace - he's probably in the bar at O'Leary's. Drag his ass back to his office will you, he was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago. Oh, and you drive him here, don't let him drive himself - he's been there since 12 I'll bet."

After a couple of minutes, a Bozeman county Sheriff Department cruiser pulled up in front of them and Coroner Leonard Wallace almost fell out of the back. He fumbled with his keys and unlocked the office door as he mumbled apologies to everyone.  
"Terribly sorry - I could have sworn we agreed to meet at three, not two. Most sorry, I was eating my lunch!" Nelson and Leeds shared a knowing glance that Peter and Olivia both caught. Wallace was a short, plump man with a bald head but wisps of white hair clung to the sides of his head like clouds. His red nose suggested to Peter that 'lunch' at O'Leary's was a pretty common event. Once he'd got the door open and turned the alarm off, Wallace ushered them in.  
"Come on through, the body is in the mortuary." They followed the doctor through the building and down a flight of stairs and into the cool of the mortuary. Wallace turned all the lights on and Leeds waited outside. Peter leaned over to her.  
"Squeamish?"  
She smiled sadly at him, then scrunched her face up at the memory.  
"Not normally, but I've seen it once today, thanks. I'll wait upstairs."

They stood around a metal table, covered in a white sheet. Walter was sucking on a smoothie as his eyes darted eagerly over the sheet, waiting for the secret to be revealed. Somewhat more alarmingly, Wallace seemed almost as eager to show Walter as Walter was to see it. Like a good showman though, he built the tension up first.

"The body was recovered from the upper slopes of Thompson Peak late last night by Ranger Leeds and her team, with assistance from the Sheriff department. By my order, the area where the body was found has been cordoned off, and crime scene officers from Missoula will arrive later today to collect evidence."  
"So it's a homicide?" Olivia looked from Wallace to Nelson and back again. Wallace answered.  
"In my mind, no doubt about it." He looked over at the Sheriff, who remained taciturn. "Sheriff Nelson, however doesn't share my opinion. Nevertheless, the circumstances are somewhat unusual, so I contacted a colleague in Helena who contacted an FBI colleague in Seattle who I suppose contacted you."

Nelson butted in at this point.  
"Just so as we're clear, I ain't sayin' this ain't weird, because it is, I'm just sayin' that if Doc Wallace here is right about cause of death, I have a hard time believing someone could carry out a murder this…." he chose his next words very carefully. "…complicated."  
"Well?" It was Walter, his patience for small talk wearing thin. "Let us examine the mortal remains shall we?" Suspense built, Wallace whipped off the sheet. Both Astrid and Olivia gasped and took an involuntary step back. Peter winced, Nelson's eyes twitched under his hat and he rubbed his moustache nervously. Walter, on the other hand, almost hooted in delight.  
"My God! What on earth did this?" He looked up at Wallace, eyes twinkling. "It's extraordinary!"

The corpse was of a man who could have been anywhere between 18 and 70, though the shock of blonde spiky hair suggested to Olivia, when she could bring herself to look, someone perhaps in their early twenties. The hair and the feet and ankles were the only parts of the sagging, swollen, corrupted sac of flesh and fluid that looked even remotely human. The flesh was grey and when Walter poked it with a scalpel, the surface rippled like he was touching the skin of a rice pudding. The surface of the skin was covered in bumps and ridges of various sizes and the limbs were hugely swollen around the joints. The facial features were long gone.

"Quite extraordinary" echoed Walter as he watched the skin on the corpse roll like the surface of a water body.  
"What the hell happened to the guy?" Peter asked, picking up the Coroners report.  
"Is it a virus, Walter?"

Olivia had become acutely aware of her own mortality.  
"No." Walter had taken a pair of tweezers and plucked something tiny from the corpse. He held it over a magnifying glass, so Olivia could see. "Bee sting. When I get the body back to our lab, I'll know more."  
Wallace opened his mouth to protest but Sheriff Nelson waved his hand and the Coroner shut up. Nelson adjusted his hat and coughed nervously.  
"Len, if these nice Federal Agents want to remove this..." he struggled to find adequately descriptive words, "...whatever the hell this thing is, then there ain't much either of us can do."

Walter smiled apologetically at Wallace then went back to examining the body.  
"I don't understand."

It was Olivia, still staring at the bee sting under the magnifying glass. "If the guy was stung to death by bees, it's not really our domain, is it?" She looked to Peter for support.  
"She's right, Walter. There are 4 deaths in the US from bee stings every year, it's rare, but it's hardly a Pattern event."  
"When I was 8, we lived in Alabama for a while." It was Astrid, who was staring at the body and talking in a low, unsteady voice. "One day, me and Cally, my best friend, we went to play by the river. She dropped something by an old log and got bitten by a cottonmouth. Her hand blew up like this guy's joints. They had to cut it off..." She trailed off and Walter put a comforting hand on her shoulder.  
"I'm sorry Astrid. You are right, though. This body shows evidence of envenomation by snakebite too."  
"No cottonmouths up here though." It was Nelson, who was eyeing Walter carefully.  
"No, but there are prairie rattlesnakes. I counted 16 separate bites."

Wallace looked from face to face.

"I've never seen anything like it."  
Olivia snapped her phone open and asked Broyles to organise transportation for the body back to Walter's Lab. When she finished, she gently placed the sheet back over the remains.  
"Walter, You and Astrid will accompany the remains back to Harvard. Peter and I will follow you when we're done."

Peter looked at Olivia quizzically.  
"What are we doing?"  
"We need to see the scene." 


	2. Chapter 2

THOMPSON'S PEAK, TOBACCO ROOT MOUNTAINS, MONTANA

Ranger Leeds had given Olivia a detailed map of the mountain and the GPS co-ordinates for where the body was found. She also sat them both down in her office before the started up the trail.  
"How fit are you both?"  
Olivia smiled.  
"Fit enough. Ex-Marine Corps."  
"What about you?" Leeds looked at Peter. He shrugged.  
"I can keep up with her, so I'm no slouch." Leeds eyed him carefully but didn't raise the matter further. Instead she walked to a wall map and traced their route up the hill.  
"It's about 4 hours up the trail and four hours down, so you have an hour up there maximum, and even then it'll be dark before you're all the way down. You should get to the forestry road before sundown. If you're not, you're better staying put until morning, unless you want to fall into a mine." She smiled at them both. "You don't want to do that." She turned to Olivia. "What you carrying?"  
Olivia took out her gun.  
"9mm SIG". Leeds got up and went to the gun cabinet and took out a pump-action shotgun and a box of ammunition.  
"An adult Grizzly is 1500 pounds and can run 35 miles an hour. The skull is three inches thick. A 9mm round will just hack him off. Best bet is to unload this into the ground in front of him. It usually scares them off." Peter raised an eyebrow.  
"Usually?" Leeds laughed.  
"No guarantees. If that doesn't work, climb a tree." Don't take any food up there except trail snacks and only take water. Bears can smell cooking food 5 miles away and alcohol from 4 miles. Also, no sex – that's a red rag to a bear." Olivia looked at Peter who smirked.  
"We'll take it under advisement. Anything else we should know?" Leeds looked Peter up and down.  
"Any health problems?" If Peter flinched at the question, only Olivia saw it. When he spoke his voice was steady.  
"Nope."  
"Good." Leeds didn't bother asking Olivia. "You'll be going most of the way up the Peak, over 9000 feet. That's high enough to get altitude sickness if you've got asthma or breathing disorders. If you feel whoosy, or you start to get headaches, start to come back down immediately." She turned to Olivia. "If he starts to get irritable, or angry, or if he starts babbling incoherently, you need to get him down." Olivia looked sideways at Peter.  
"Honestly, if that was the basis for getting him medical attention, I'd be his full-time carer." Peter rolled his eyes. Olivia shot him a tiny blink-and-you'd-miss-it smile. "Is there anything else we need to know?"  
"Only that you kids go have some fun!"

And for Olivia, it was. She fairly bounded up the trail, smiling and jabbering like an over-excited teenage girl. If every muscle in Peter's tired aching body wasn't brittle like spun glass, he'd have found this whole new side of Olivia Dunham highly entertaining. After a couple of hours of climbing up a trail getting smaller and more closed in by woodland, Peter decided he needed a stop and a drink. He collapsed on a rock and took a long pull on his canteen. Olivia looked back and saw he had sat down, so she trotted back to him.  
"What's up Bishop, I thought you were fit." He eyed Olivia from behind his canteen. When he'd finished he flexed his back to ease the ache settling down over his lower spine.  
"You're a sadist Dunham. I am fit, it's just I'm trying to keep up with The Terminator." He poured some of the water over his face to cool down. "Why so giggly, anyway?"  
Olivia's eyes went from Peter to some undefined point in the deep woods.  
"I love hiking. Me and Rachel used to go into the Ozarks and the Blue Ridge Mountains with my Mum as kids." She smiled widely at the memory. "We'd camp and fish, sit by a fire and watch the stars….I'm taking Ella out in the Autumn." She looked around them at the woods and ridges. "I can't wait."  
In spite of his back pain, Peter couldn't help but catch a little of Olivia's infectious enthusiasm. It was a pleasure seeing Olivia so carefree and he tried to remember the last time he'd seen her so openly happy. Certainly not since she's got back from the Other side. His happiness at seeing her like this was tinged with a little sadness that he didn't see it more often.  
"Wow, Olivia Dunham, Wilderness Scout. I bet you got all the badges." She laughed.  
"Damn right! By the age of ten." Peter laughed.  
"By the age of ten, Walter had me monitoring the effects of giving LSD to Archie." Olivia sat down on the rock next to him.  
"Who was Archie?"  
"Our cat. It didn't end well. I'll show you the scars some day." Olivia laughed again and Peter grinned.  
"You should come with us." Olivia looked at him expectantly.  
"What, and get in the way of a little Aunt-Niece time in the middle of nowhere? No thanks, I'm happy being pizza and DVD in the comfort of his own home Uncle Peter, thanks." Olivia quite unexpectedly leaned over and kissed him.  
"Suit yourself. Now on your feet Bishop, we need to get moving if we want to get where we're going by 6."

The last hour of the climb was easier and they got to the point where the body had been found half an hour early. The glade had been cordoned off by police tape, and they dipped under it and walked into the open area of grass and rocks dappled by the late afternoon sunshine. They walked over to where the body was found. Olivia walked passed the spot and towards the far edge of the glade, but Peter crouched down and began to examine the grass around the location where the body had come to rest. In the grass he found the body of a honey bee, so he picked it up and put in a jar. Then he found another, and another and he continued to find them until he'd filled three jars in half an hour. He put them in his backpack, and looked up just as Olivia was returning.  
"What have you got?" Peter showed her a jar.  
"Several hundred dead honey bees, a few dozen dead bumble bees – It doesn't make any sense."  
"Why not? Maybe he just stepped on a nest." Peter shook his head.  
"That would explain the honey bees, but not the bumble bees." He was talking largely to himself. "It's like he pissed off the entire bee race." He stared down at his feet. "Well that's a little odd."  
"What?" Peter leaned down and picked up the body of a turtle, about twice the size of a dinner plate. Olivia took a step back.  
"Whoa, careful Peter, that's a snapper. It'll take your fingers off." Peter stared carefully at it.  
"Only if it's a zombie turtle. It's dead." He looked around the glade. "What is a 20 pound turtle doing half way up a mountain?"

Olivia eyed it suspiciously.  
"You tell me, we're firmly in your territory now."

Peter shrugged.  
"Honestly, I don't have a clue."  
Olivia laughed.  
"That's not very scientific." Peter shrugged.  
"I guess not. It's all I got right now, though." Olivia raised an eyebrow.  
"Well if science boy has drawn a blank, the Wilderness Scout has something to show you."  
They walked to the edge of the glade and Olivia led Peter through the briars and woodland to a small opening in the woodland, this one cut roughly by hand. The logs had been stacked haphazardly against the far side of the clear-felled area. It had been a rushed job. Within the open area, someone had been busy. There was a young and healthy crop of cannabis plants carpeting the floor of the glade. Peter whistled.  
"Man, I hope Walter has a good alibi." 


	3. Chapter 3

THE HANDLEY OFF-RAMP INN, BOZEMAN, MONTANA

It was 10pm and Peter was sat at a table at the far end of the empty bar, being eyed by a bored barman idly cleaning glasses and waiting for Peter to finish his untouched beer. It was cooler now that night had fallen, but the heat of the afternoon had not yet entirely gone, and the somewhere off to the west, behind the black mountains framed through the open doors or the bar against the midnight blue sky, lightning flashed and thunder rolled up and down the valleys and bluffs of the Rocky Mountains.

The table behind which Peter sat was littered with books and the contents of the jars he'd collected on the mountain earlier that day. There was Kaufman's guide to the insects of North America, Richardson's Guide to Bees and Yellowjackets, The Montana Natural Resources guide to Reptiles and Amphibians. Next to the books sat a hand lens and a notepad. Peter had spent the hour since emerging from the shower, grime and sweat from the climb down the mountain washed away, trying to identify the species of bee and wasp that he'd recovered from the area around where the body was found. He was on the second page of the notepad, when Olivia walked into the bar, ordered a whiskey sour from the unimpressed barman and sat herself down opposite Peter. She looked over the debris splayed across the table.  
"What are you doing?"

Peter looked up from the field guide and rubbed his tired eyes, taking a swig from the beer bottle.  
"Trying to identify the species of insects we found near the body."  
"Why?"  
Peter sat back in his chair and lifted the notepad from the table.  
"So far, I've identified 19 species of bee, two species of yellowjacket, a species of hornet, 9 species of parasitic wasp and three species of ants from the material I found. Some of these might be coincidental, but something about this case doesn't feel right."

Olivia took a sip from her drink.  
"What's bothering you?"

Peter put the pad down and looked at her.  
"Bees can live in groups, or they can be solitary. People get stung to death by bees and wasps when they disturb a nest, happens once every three of four years, but it's always just one species of bee or wasp – usually the American honey bee or the white-faced hornet. But there are 34 species of bee, wasp and ant here, including some parasitic species that have no business stinging people at all. It doesn't make any sense." He took another drink. In the distance, getting closer, thunder bellowed and Peter looked up to see the storm clouds gathering around the mountain peaks.  
"What about that dead turtle?"  
"That makes no sense either. There are snapping turtles in this part of Montana – you get them in the lakes and rivers in the foothills of the mountains, but never higher than 4000 feet, so either out victim brought it up with him, or it clambered up 3000 feet of mountain." Olivia examined his face. Peter looked tired and frustrated, like someone who had been given some of the pieces of a jigsaw, but not all of them and had no box illustration to guide him. Walter would have found such a challenge exhilarating, but Peter found it frustrating, it was one of the many subtle ways Olivia had noticed that set the two men apart.  
"Have you called Walter?"  
Peter cursed under his breath.  
"I completely forgot. I'll try him at the lab…"  
"Don't you think it's a little late?"

Peter smiled.  
"He's flown back with a human slushy and no adult supervision. I'll lay money on the fact he's stood over the body, scalpel in hand when Astrid picks up the phone." He took out his cellphone and called the Lab.  
"Hello, Agent Farnsworth, FBI."

Peter smiled at Olivia who rolled her eyes and started absently sorting through the assemblage of insects Peter had already identified.  
"Hey Astrid, it's Peter." Astrid sounded relieved to hear his voice.  
"Thank goodness you rang, we were beginning to think you'd been eaten by a bear." Peter laughed.  
"Yeah, sorry about that, I've been doing a bit of amateur entomology and I lost track of time. I take it he's still working?"

Astrid laughed on the other end of the phone.  
"He's dissecting what can only be described as the most disgusting thing we've ever had in here, and given the competition, that's quite a title to win. I doubt he'd leave if the place was on fire. You want to talk to him?"  
"Yes please." There was a brief period of silence. Olivia was poking at the jar of insects that Peter had yet to sort through. He gently slapped her hand and she scowled at him.  
"I've not done those yet. If you mix them up, I'll have to start from scratch."  
"Hello Son, I was starting to wonder if you were stuck up a tree, being eyed by a bear." Despite the hour and the day's travel, Walter sounded alert and excited.  
"I'm fine Walter. Are you still working?"  
"Of course. So far we've extracted nearly two litres of venom from our cadaver and he's now gone all floppy, like a human shopping bag!"

Peter grimaced.  
"Thanks Walter, I'll sleep better with that image in my head."  
"You're welcome Son." Irony was never Walter's strong suite. "We're analysing the toxins now, but so far we've isolated 9 different types of venom. It's remarkable!"  
"When we visited the scene this afternoon, I found as much of the insect remains as I could. I think I've identified more than thirty species, all dead around the spot where the body was found. We're going to send them over to you – Could you get Langham in the biology faculty to ID them?"  
"Yes, of course Peter. When will you be home?"  
"Tomorrow, probably. Don't work all night. You know how cranky you get if you don't sleep properly."  
"OK Peter. Good night."  
"Goodnight Walter. Put Astrid back on." As Walter passed the phone back to Astrid, Olivia's cell phone went and she picked it up.  
"Hi Peter." Astrid sounded tired.  
"Hi Astrid. Don't let him work you too hard." Astrid grunted.  
"He's got human slop to identify. We aren't going anywhere."

It was Peter's turn to laugh.  
"I'm sending some insect remains over, Walter needs to get them ID'ed. Also, when we were up in the mountains, we found a crop of weed. I need Walter to analyse it." There was a brief silence at the other end of the phone, and when Astrid spoke, her voice was low and conspiratorial.  
"I don't know Peter, when it comes to drugs, your Dad goes from sweet and batty old guy to wily like a fox."  
"I know, that's why I'm sending them to you. Get him to analyse them and stand over him as he does it. We need data on the chemical composition of the plants and that requires the mass spectrometer, not a bong and the greatest hits of Jefferson Airplane."  
"Jefferson who?"

Peter laughed. Sometimes he forgot how young Astrid was.  
"Never mind." Olivia was gesticulating at him as she snapped her cellphone shut. "Astrid, I've got to go."  
"All right Peter. See you soon."  
"Good night Astrid." He hung up and turned to Olivia. "What is it?"  
She drained her drink and stood up.  
"Collect your stuff, we've got an early start tomorrow morning."  
"Why? What is it?"  
"There's been another body found, similar to this one. In New Mexico."

HARVARD UNIVERSITY, BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS

Walter was stood in front of a lab table, with 16 vials of fluid in front of him, all different volumes and all different colours from almost colourless through to dark grey via yellow and pink. Behind him, covered by a sheet were the remains from which the fluid had been extracted. The sheet only stood three inches proud of the table, and what was left of the body was now little more than skin and bone. Walter had pumped silicon into the fingertips in order to try and get workable fingerprints. The results were not entirely successful, but Astrid was running them anyway.

Peter was perched on a stool, cradling a cup of coffee in his hands. Olivia had flown down to Albuquerque to collect the second body with Broyles. Walter was beside himself with excitement, but was containing himself, just about, so he could present his findings to Peter in the manner of a science teacher. Peter would never admit it, but, in spite of the surroundings and circumstances he found the whole scene rather sweet.

"OK Walter, what have you got to tell me?"

Walter grinned.  
"Vial one contains 700 millilitres of a protein-based venom consistent with around 40 bites from a mid-sized venomous snake. The chemical composition is consistent with that of a prairie rattlesnake. Vial two contains around 500 millilitres or an acidic protein compound consistent with around 5000 stings by American honey bees, vial three contains around 80 millilitres of a similar toxin which is probably consistent with the venom generated from around 300 stings from white-faced hornets."

Walter went through each of the vials, identifying fire ants, wood ants, an amalgam of bumble bee stings, venom from the western black-widow spider and the northern bark scorpion, centipede venom and threw in a few petrie dishes with tiny white grains in them, identified as the eggs of parasitic and wood-boring wasps. He got to the last vial and took a healthy swig from it. Peter leapt from his stool.  
"Walter!"

Walter savoured the liquid and put the empty vial back on the desk.  
"Mountain dew. I couldn't find a glass."  
"For crying out loud Walter, remember the talk we had about misuse of lab equipment?"  
"Not really, no." Walter continued. "We removed several hundred bee stings from this man, a number of fire ants from inside his trachea and nasal cavities and a single, live, western black widow spider from…, well let's just say it was unpleasant for all concerned."  
"Happy days, Walter" Astrid chimed from the back of the lab, eyes still glued to the fingerprint database search she was running. Walter smiled and his eyes drifted off, until Peter clicked his fingers in front of them.  
"Hey! Walter! Please don't tell me you're going all misty eyed about pulling a venomous spider from some guys….I don't even want to finish that sentence."  
"Quite right Son, it was indeed repugnant." Walter switched back to the here and now. "As you know, most animal venom is protein-based, and designed in part to liquefy body tissue to assist a predator in eating its prey. In this case, the volume of venom was enough to almost entirely liquefy our poor victim." His face clouded over. "It would have been an agonising death."

Peter lifted one of the glass tubes and sniffed gingerly at it.  
"OK, so the guy was dissolved from the inside out. What this doesn't tell me is why the whole animal kingdom went after this guy."  
"Well," Walter began, "That's the question, isn't it?"

Peter rolled his eyes and turned to Astrid. She didn't turn from her computer.  
"Hey, don't look at me. Removing spiders from….lets just say somewhere spiders have no right being, is as far beyond my job description as I'm prepared to go today."

It was at that point that Olivia burst into the lab, 4 FBI tech and crime scene analysts wheeling two covered stretchers following in her wake. She signed for them and the FBI guys left. Helping herself to a cup of coffee, she walked over to Walter and Peter and looked at the vials of liquid.  
"What's going on here?" Peter raised an eyebrow at Walter.  
"The World's most dangerous game of find the lady, apparently. Mountain Dew or death." Olivia knew better than to bite on that one, but it drew a confused grin. Walter looked expectantly at the two covered stretchers.  
"What have you brought me, Olivia?"  
"Two more bodies, Walter. These were found in a state park in New Mexico." She addressed the next part to Peter. "Guess what we found growing next to the bodies?"  
"Cannabis?"

Olivia nodded and took a sip of coffee. Peter looked over at Walter.  
"Have you analysed that cannabis we sent over yet?"

Walter looked shifty.  
"Not yet, I was going to do it this evening."

Peter eyed him carefully.  
"You're drying it, aren't you?"  
"Not yet." Walter sulked. "Astrid hasn't left my side since it arrived." He said it loud enough for her to hear, but she just smiled sarcastically. Walter took it out of the evidence bag and passed it to Peter. "I suppose you might as well have it now."  
"Thank you Walter." He pocketed it, deciding to do the analysis later when Walter was asleep. As he did so, Astrid stood up.  
"Hey, I've got a match!" She printed out the fingerprint match and handed it to Olivia, who slipped on her glasses and began to read.  
"Kevin Andrew Figgis. Born February 7th 1980, in Eldorado Springs, Kansas. He was first arrested aged 16 for a DUI, then again 3 years later for possession of narcotics with intent to supply in Idaho Falls. According to this, he did 7 years in Idaho State penitentiary before he was released 2006. After that, there's no further record of the guy."

Olivia looked up.

"Looks like he got back into the drugs trade after he was paroled. Anyone want to lay a bet that the cannabis on Thompsons Peak was his?"  
"Seems likely," Peter began, "But it doesn't explain why the cold-blooded wildlife of Thompson's Peak had such a grudge against him."  
"This is interesting….." It was Astrid. "I ran Kevin Andrew Figgis through the IRS database. It seems he was employed since his release by a company called ACI Agri-chemicals. Based on his tax returns, he was pulling in some pretty big money." She looked up from the computer screen. "That's not normal for an ex-con."  
Walter turned round from examining the two bodies from New Mexico.  
"He was employed by an agro-chemicals company?"  
"What is it Walter?" Olivia asked.

Walter smiled slightly.  
"I want to examine these bodies before I can be certain, but I think I might have an idea about what's causing this." Peter got up off the stool.  
"What are we supposed to do?"  
"We…" began Olivia, "…are going to pay ACI a visit."


	4. Chapter 4

**I ****91, Outside Hartford, Conn.**

As Olivia drove, Peter idly turned the evidence bag full of cannabis over in his hand. Olivia glanced down at it and returned her eyes to the interstate.  
"You know, that's evidence. It should really be in lock-up."  
Peter shrugged and put it back in his pocket.  
"Yeah, I know. Would you rather I left it with Walter? By the time we got back, he'd have Cheech and Chonged it." He glanced out at the passing scenery. "Where are ACI based anyway?"  
"Hartford. Astrid rang ahead, we're meeting their associate vice president there tomorrow."

Peter whistled sarcastically.  
"Associate Vice President eh? Vice President busy, is he?"

Olivia ignored him and thrust a road atlas at him.  
"As alluring as I find smart-ass, you could help us out and find us somewhere to stay."  
Peter directed them to an off ramp place fifty miles or so east of Hartford and as Olivia checked them in, Peter went in search of a telephone and rang Walter. When he got back, Olivia was already sat in the bar. He bought a drink and went over to sit by her.  
"So what's the plan for tomorrow?"  
"Don't know. Question they guy I guess - find out why he's in the business of hiring drug producers." She seemed listless.  
"Olivia" Peter began. "Are you OK?"

She smiled, it was a tired, half-hearted effort.  
"Yeah, I'm fine." Peter waited for the 'but'..."I'm tired. This whole thing doesn't seem to make any sense." Peter laughed.  
"Of course it doesn't. Since when did anything we're involved in make sense?" He was quiet for a moment, and Olivia turned her eyes from the content of her glass to his.  
"If I tell you something, do you promise not to make a big deal of it?"

Peter looked at her intently.  
"Of course."

It was Olivia's turn to smile.  
"You don't know what it is yet."

Peter put his hand over hers and spoke in a gentle voice.  
"You really ought to have realised by now that it doesn't matter."

Olivia smiled at him, but the words still didn't come easily.  
"I really hate bugs."  
Peter looked at her in confusion for a second then burst out laughing. Olivia pouted.  
"You promised!"

Peter waved it away, still chortling.  
"I know, I'm sorry, I am!"

Olivia scowled at him, but he couldn't help himself. Eventually she found herself smiling too.  
"That's the last time I tell you anything in confidence, Peter Bishop!" She drained her drink and put the glass back on the table as Peter composed himself. "Why is it so funny anyway?"  
"I don't know, it was about the last thing I was expecting you to say."

Olivia looked at him and a smile crawled over her face.  
"You thought I was going to say something else, didn't you. About us."

Peter took a swig of his beer.  
"Rats."

It was Olivia's turn to look confused.  
"What?"  
" I hate rats. I don't know why. They've never really done anything to earn it, I just hate their beady eyes and their tails." He literally shuddered in his chair. "If you don't like bugs, it's nothing to be ashamed of."  
"I'm not ashamed " Olivia corrected him, "It's just that I don't like the idea of turning into a helpless wreck when confronted with thousands of creepy crawlies." Peter grinned at the image in his head.  
"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me, though if Walter starts telling you his black widow story, you might want to change the subject." He sloshed his beer around in the bottle. "What brought this up?"

Olivia shrugged.  
"I'm trying to get a handle on this case. what makes a bug angry?"

Peter leaned back in his chair.  
"Bees release a chemical when they sting that drives other bees into a stinging frenzy. Bombadier beetles actually have two highly caustic chemicals in their bodies that they can mix together and turn into a contact explosive. The insect world is full of nasty little surprises."  
Olivia ran her hands through her hair and rubbed her eyes.  
"...and I used to think chasing criminal marines around was tough."

**ACI AGRI-CHEMICALS INC, HARTFORD, CONNECTICUT**

It turned out that the Associate Vice President of ACI was a small, middle-aged balding man in horn-rimmed glasses and a cheap suit who went by the unfortunate name of Henry Muntus. Oliva and Peter sat in his drab office on a small factory complex on the south side of Hartford, drinking instant coffee. Muntus had the air of a man slightly harassed from having to do one job too many, but he had received them in fairly good humour and, as Olivia began by asking about ACI had showed no signs of dishonest.  
"ACI is really a pretty small operation, Agent Dunham. We have about 200 staff, mainly on the fertiliser processing plant, which is out main business, or in our labs. Compared to the big chemical companies, we're not much more than amateurs."  
"What do you work on in your labs?"  
"We do some genetic testing of new crop types - rust-resistant wheat, blight-resistant potatoes, that sort of thing. We also sub-contract some of that. We test new pesticides too."

Olivia took out a photograph of Kevin Figgis taken by the Idaho state penal service and handed it to Muntus.  
"Do you recognise this man?"

Muntus looked at it for a secon, and handed it back.  
"Of course. That's Kevin Figgis. He's one of our employees."  
"And what does Mr Figgis do for you?"  
"He works in our labs on gene splicing and selective breeding." Peter sat forward.  
"You know he's a convicted felon?" Munus looked at Peter carefully.  
"Of course."  
"And you know what he was convicted of?"  
"Mr Bishop," Muntus began "I know all about Kevin's possession conviction. It's the reason why we employed him. If you can raise cannabis on the side of some frost-pocket mountain, you can probably grow anything. That's useful to an organisation like ours. He's served his time, and we pay pretty well, and we never had a minute's problem - he was a model worker."  
Olivia observed Muntus carefully. The story made sense, even if the circumstances of Figgis' death didn't. Muntus looked from Peter to Olivia.  
"Could you tell me what this is about?"  
Olivia wasn't ready to go there. Not yet.  
"Mr Muntus, does your company conduct medical trials?"  
"No, of course not."  
"And you don't grow cannabis under Government licence or otherwise?"  
"No." His eyes narrowed slightly, his first external sign of discomfort at the direction the conversation was taking. "Why?"  
"Because, Mr Muntus" Olivia began, "Kevin Figgis was found dead two days ago, in suspicious circumstances, one of which was the fact that he was half way up a mountain in a State park in Montana, next to a cannabis crop." Muntus stared at her in unconcealed shock.  
"What? Are you sure it's him?"

Olivia nodded.  
"I'm afraid so. You understand why we need to see everything that Figgis had been working on."

Muntus slowly nodded his head, the shock still painted across his face.  
"Of course, take whatever you need."

Olivia nodded quietly at Peter, who got up and left the room, walking over to the associate vice-president's secretary to organise the collection of the data. Olivia leaned towards Muntus.  
"I know this is difficult, but can you tell me anything about Mr Figgis?"  
"Like what?"  
"Well, was he a good employee, how had he been recently?"  
Muntus took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.  
"He's, He was a model employee. Not many ex-cons get work as well paid as we pay, and so they tend to work hard and feel a debt to us. We've been doing this for 30 years and never, to our knowledge had anyone get anything worse than a parking ticket once in our employ, so you can understand my shock."

Olivia had already decided that Muntus and probably ACI had nothing to do with it. She nodded.  
"What about Mr Figgis, any changes in him recently?" Muntus thought carefully about the question.  
"I didn't work with him closely, but his shift supervisor did say a couple of weeks ago that he appeared to be distracted. He asked for some personal time last week. He's hardly taken a holiday for five years, so we gave him a month."  
"Why did he want the time off?"  
"Family illness, he said." Muntus shook his head. "I can't believe it."  
Olivia smiled sadly and stood up.  
"Thank you for your time, Mr Muntus. If you can have that information sent to this address, I'd be grateful." She handed him her card. He took it absently and Olivia let herself out.  
"What do you think?"

Peter and Olivia walked through the car park back to her SUV when he asked the question. She shrugged.  
"I guess we'll know when we get the information on Figgis, but I don't think ACI are involved. Muntus looked genuinely shocked."  
"So what now?"

They got in the SUV.  
"Now we head back to Harvard and see what your Father has turned up from those bodies from New Mexico."


	5. Chapter 5

**HARVARD UNIVERSITY, MASSACHUSETTS**

Olivia was in her office going through box after box of material that Muntus had sent through detailing every project that Figgis had worked on. Walter was pacing up and down waiting for an e-mail from the biology department detailing the toxin he'd removed from the two bodies from New Mexico. Peter was stood over Astrid's shoulder as the two sets of fingerprints from the bodies were running through the FBI computer. Walter did a little hop as his computer bleeped and he began to read the e-mail.  
"What is it, Walter?" Astrid looked up from the Computer. Walter coughed, and began to sing in a fair faximile of an Italian opera singer.  
"_Theeerreeessss_ Copperhead and rattlesnake both diamondback and Mojave, and Coral Snake and Massasunga and the American gila monster..." Olivia walked out of her office and noted the broad smiles on both Astrid and Peter. Peter looked round at Olivia.  
"He's going through a Gilbert and Sullivan thing at the moment."

Walter continued unabated.  
"...Scolopendrax centipedes and recluse spiders and several dozen kinds of ven-om-ous _invertebrates_." They all applauded as he finished and Walter bowed deeply. Peter clapped him on the back.  
"But seriously Walter, come on..." Walter printed off the e-mail and walked over to where Olivia and Astrid stood.  
"There are far more venomous animals in New Mexico than in Montana. These two unfortunate individuals were envenomated by over 50 species of invertebrate and reptile. Both died mercifully quickly."  
Walter handed the e-mail to Peter who scanned it and whistled.  
"That's pretty much the best definition of a bad day I've ever read. Are you any closer to knowing why?"  
Walter shrugged.  
"Possibly. I have some theories at least. Peter, do you have that sample of Cannabis you took from the Montana site?"  
Peter raised an eyebrow and fished it from his pocket.  
"Yes…" he began slowly, disapproving eyes fixed on Walter. "…Why?"  
"Oh for goodness sake, Son, I grow better than this in the upstairs lavatory."

Astrid and Olivia shared a glance and Peter laughed nervously  
"Walter, remember when we talked about not mentioning your 'hobbies' in front of the FBI?"

Walter smiled wryly.  
"Ah yes, we don't want _The Fuzz_…" he exaggerated the words for effect, "…to find out do we?" He tapped his nose and Peter rolled his eyes. Olivia started to lose patience.  
"Walter…."  
"Of course, Olivia Dear. I don't need to see it, I just need to know – did you pick it or collect it from material already harvested?"

Peter thought back.  
"It was lying in a pile of material already harvested. Why?"  
"Ahhhh!" Walter was already three steps ahead of them. "Agent Dunham, do you think you can have the local authorities dig up several of the plants from Montana and New Mexico and have them sent to the lab please?"

Olivia shrugged.  
"Sure. Why dug up?"

Walter smiled.  
"Well, I think I may have a theory, and if I'm right, I need live specimens. It's most important."  
Olivia made the call and as she did so, Astrid's fingerprint search got a hit. She turned to the screen.  
"One of our New Mexico guys is called John Dalton. According to this, he was 25, and served three years for possession of cannabis with intent to supply at Roswell Correctional Centre. Came out two years ago and walked into a job with New Eden Agri-science."

Peter walked over.  
"What? Another agricultural chemical place? That can't be a coincidence."

Astrid shook her head.  
"According to their web site, New Eden is at the forefront of genetic crop enhancement."  
As they looked at New Eden's web site, the second fingerprint search found a match. Astrid switched screens and her face dropped.  
"Erm, Olivia?"

Dunham snapped closed her phone.  
"Your samples are on the way Walter." She walked over to where Astrid and Peter stood. "What is it?"

Astrid tilted the screen round for her to see.  
"We got a match on the second body." Olivia looked at the screen. It was blank except for four words.

Classified. Department of Defense.

"That's not good", she breathed, as she opened her phone and called the boss.

**HARVARD UNIVERSITY, BOSTON**

"Show me." Broyles was stood over Astrid as she showed him the results of the second finger print search. He stared intently at it for a second. "Can I sit down?" Astrid moved out of the way and Astrid stood behind him. He sat there but craned his head round to look at her. "A little privacy please, Agent Farnsworth."  
"Yes Sir!" Astrid flustered. "Sorry Sir."

Peter and Olivia were watching from a distance across the other side of the lab and Walter was milking Gene, head cocked, listening, if not watching. Broyles, satisfied that Astrid was out of view, tapped on the computer keyboard. He looked at the screen and tapped a second time. Then he sighed deeply and stood up.  
"Whatever level of security that man enjoyed…" He pointed a thumb at the two bodies covered in sheets at the back of the lab. "…It's higher than mine. This may take a while to sort out. You should also know that the search is likely to have tipped off the DoD so chances are they're already on the telephone to my office." He walked over to Peter and Olivia. "You said you had a lead on the second body…"  
"It appears he worked at a place in New Mexico that grows genetically modified crops." Olivia offered.  
Broyles looked over at Astrid.  
"Agent Farnsworth, I want you looking for anything that links the bodies in New Mexico to the one in Montana, go through financials, prison records, everything. Something must link these two, and I want to know what it is, preferably before this place is swarming with DoD officials."

Astrid nodded solemnly and sat down at the desk and began typing. Broyles turned to Olivia and Peter.

"You two work this New Eden angle. Find out if there's a link between New Eden and this ACI place. We need something fast, because in 6 hours, DoD will be all over this."  
"Sir, they're not going to take this case…" Olivia was bellicose.  
"Agent Dunham…." Broyles cracked what might have been the smallest of smiles. "…how long have we worked together?"

**ROSWELL, NEW MEXICO.**

New Eden was, if anything, smaller than ACI had been, and the stories were depressingly similar. Yes, the Director of New Eden they'd met knew that Dalton had a criminal record, and he also knew what for. No, they didn't work on cannabis production for the medical industry. No, Dalton had been a model employee, but had seemed distracted in the last few months. No, New Eden had no commercial relationship with ACI. Olivia and Peter sat in a roadside diner just outside Roswell drinking coffee and eating pancakes.

As Broyles had predicted, the Department of Defense had arrived and taken all the bodies, samples and data from Walter's lab, and ordered Broyles to cease the investigation immediately, which Broyles had, of course agreed to do. At least as far as the still unknown DoD officer was concerned. Of course they could still investigate the deaths of Figgis and Dalton. Broyles had taken great delight in describing the shade of red that the apoplectic DoD official had turned when he'd explained that, but given that DoD didn't outrank Homeland Security, there was nothing they could do about it. Broyles had laid it on the line to Olivia. Now DoD were aware of their investigation, the clock was ticking. The lack of help from New Dawn had not helped her already fractious mood.

"Maybe it's little green men?" Peter said, staring out of the diner window.  
"What?"  
"Well, this is Roswell…."

Olivia laughed, but there was no mirth in the sound.  
"Close Encounters of the Botanical Kind? I'll leave you to write that report for Broyles. Just wait until I've left the office before you submit it." She was swirling her coffee around her cup and staring at the contents slopping round in the bottom. Peter watched her and smiled.  
"God, you look miserable."

Olivia looked up and scowled at him.  
"And why is that amusing?"

Peter reached over and took her hand. She looked at him dubiously.  
"Because it's good. I remember how pissed you got when a case was slow or not going right. Before you were taken captive over there, you could be a royal pain in the ass if a case was going south. Since you came back, that kind of fire's been missing. Until now."  
It was true and Olivia knew it. Before she had rescued Peter and found herself locked up in that cell, her tenacity had made her an outstanding investigator and sometimes not the World's most pleasant colleague. Since her return, the relief of working, of being back where she belonged had been enough. The cases had been part of that process of re-adjustment. With this one she'd noticed the old frustrations and elations starting to return. At the moment it was frustration, but it wouldn't always be. She smiled.  
"Only you could tell me I'm a miserable bitch and make me feel better."

Peter held his hands up.  
"Hey, your words, not mine."

She drank the rest of the coffee in her cup and ordered a second. Her mood was immediately better.  
"Perhaps we're looking at this the wrong way."

Peter sat back in the booth.  
"What do you mean?"  
Olivia put her cup down.  
"We are looking for a how, when perhaps we should be looking for a why."

Peter looked confused.  
"I don't follow."  
"Well, we're trying to figure out how someone or something could get every venomous animal in an area to attack someone growing cannabis. Maybe the better question is why would someone want to do that?" They stopped talking as the waitress re-filled their coffee mugs. Once she'd gone, Peter continued.  
"That assumes that this isn't a natural phenomenon."  
Olivia smiled at Peter's serious, scientist's demeanor.  
"Even you don't believe that."

He shrugged. Olivia continued.  
"O.K. Let's assume for a moment that this is a man-made event. What would you need to pull something like this off?"

Peter took a sip of coffee.  
"Well, you could train pretty much most animals given enough time and money, but I can't believe that there aren't cheaper and more practical solutions to stopping drug production once you find a crop. Petrol and a lighter, for instance."  
"But what if you couldn't do that, what if this was a crop in an area you couldn't touch?"

Finally it dawned on Peter.  
"You think this is some kind of DEA or Military experiment, don't you."

Olivia smiled.  
"Our flight home is 7am tomorrow morning. The samples Walter requested should have arrived in Harvard by now. I think we need to find out how on Earth this is being done."

Peter finished up his coffee.  
"You're the boss Olivia. Tonight, though, I have a treat for you."

They were lying on the spare blanket Peter had taken from his hotel room, looking up at the night sky. Behind them, half a mile distant, were the lights of Nellis Air Force Base and around them was the rapidly darkening New Mexican desert. At the foot of the blanket were four bottles of beer, and around their heads were scattered four more empty bottles. It was cool but not cold, and the air was still and quiet. Olivia had her head nestled in the gap between Peter's head and shoulder. Peter was pointing out constellations to her.  
"See that one there?"

She nodded.

"That's Orion. And that one?" Peter moved his hand across the sky. "That's Leo."  
"You are such a nerd, Peter Bishop." Olivia laughed. She was feeling a little tipsy. "Is that why you brought me to the Nerd's makeout point?"

Peter feigned distress.  
"And why do you think this place is a Nerd's makeout point?"  
"That couple we walked passed wearing matching 'abduct me' t-shirts?"

Peter laughed.  
"Fair enough. I have an ulterior motive for bringing you here."

Olivia raised an eyebrow.  
"Really? There's a perfectly good motel room a mile and a half back there you know."  
"No, not that. Just wait a while."  
"OK".  
They laid on the blanket for ten minutes in a comfortable, intimate silence, Olivia listening and feeling Peter's chest rise and fall as he breathed. The silence was broken occasionally by the cry of a burrowing owl or a distant coyote, but other than that it was silent and serene. It was Peter who eventually broke the silence.  
"Did you really want me to come with you and Ella?"  
"When?"  
"When you go on your camping trip."

Olivia eased herself onto her elbow and looked at Peter.  
"What brought that up?"

Peter shrugged.  
"I don't know. I guess it was a surprise that you asked me."

Olivia thought about it.  
"Yes. I do want you to come. Why was it a surprise?"  
"I guess I wasn't expecting it, I know how you like to separate your work and personal life."

Olivia leaned over so she was millimetres from his face.  
"Peter, I want you to be part of both."

She kissed him, it was gentle and honest. Then she rolled onto her back next to him. "Besides, Ella seems to like you. I have no idea why."  
Peter was about to respond when the quiet was almost ripped apart by a thunderous roar. Above them they felt the air ripple and vibrate as something large passed over them at tremendous speed, unseen in the night sky but for a pair of glowing orange 'eyes' that rapidly disappeared into the night. Olivia sat up, panicked.  
"What the Hell was that?"

Peter hadn't moved, except to put a comforting hand on her arm.  
"That's what I came here to show you."  
"What was it?"

Peter sat up.  
"That, Olivia, was an F-117 Nighthawk. The Stealth Fighter. It was designed in the 1970's for destroying Soviet road mobile nuclear missiles. They're based here at Nellis"

Olivia looked confused.  
"I don't understand…."

Peter smiled.  
"Something you said in the Diner earlier, about the why, not the how. These aircraft were designed and built from scratch out of necessity, to meet a military threat to which we had no answer. Their design began at the same time as we were still using World War 2 technology in Vietnam. Compared to them, the F-117 might as well be a star wars spaceship, that's how much more advanced the technology was. And we invented it from scratch in under a decade. If the need is great enough, we will find a way to meet it."

Olivia still looked confused. Peter smiled at her, but his eyes remained serious. "Olivia, if the attacks on Figgis and Dalton are related to the war on drugs, then what we're looking at might be the equivalent of the stealth fighter, a quantum leap in technology designed to destroy the drugs trade. The Air Force kept this aircraft secret for 20 years, and if I'm right, the DoD might be quite happy to take whatever measures are necessary to keep their little experiments quiet too. Do you understand?"  
Olivia laid back down onto the blanket slowly. She understood. She understood all too well.

**HARVARD UNIVERSITY, BOSTON.**

The two samples of cannabis from the plots in Montana and New Mexico had arrived at Walter's Lab by the time Peter and Olivia arrived back. Walter was hurrying about preparing something and being decidedly secretive about it. Broyles, Olivia and Astrid were looking over the link between Figgis and Dalton that Astrid's hard work had ferreted out.  
"And the bank account is offshore?" Broyles stared at the two bank statements side by side on the screen, Dalton on the left, Figgis on the right.  
"Yes Sir. Bermuda. We've put a request in with the Bermudan Authorities…."  
"…But we know how long they take. If we find out before Christmas, I'll be astonished." Broyles finished Astrid's sentence. It didn't matter.  
"So, both Figgis and Dalton received $50,000 from the same Bermudan Bank Account on the same day three months ago. They never met each other, they don't have cellmates in common. They work for different companies and there's no evidence of them going to the same places. This payment is the only thing that links them."

Astrid nodded as Broyles phone rang. He moved over to a quiet part of the lab to take it. Astrid looked at Olivia.  
"So someone picked these two men for some reason, and the only two things they've got in common is going to jail and the offence they committed."

Olivia nodded.  
"Someone did their homework. The question is who?"  
Broyles walked over, face troubled.  
"That was my contact in the Bermudan Financial Services chewing me out for ordering an investigation in to that bank account…" he pointed at Astrid's screen "….only for someone in the Justice Department to cancel it. I was wasting his time, apparently."

Astrid and Olivia looked at Broyles.  
"Sir," Olivia's eyes were steely. "What the hell is going on?"  
"We're ready!" Walter stood next to a large box-shaped object covered by an old table cloth. Peter looked decidedly dubious.  
"What's all this in aid of, Dr Bishop?" Broyles didn't look in the mood for games.  
"Agent Broyles, all will become clear."

Broyles looked sideways at Olivia who shrugged. Walter whipped off the table cloth to reveal a large vivarium, in which was planted one of the cannabis plants. The vivarium had a lid and had a large rock lying on a layer of earth.

"Ta-da!"

It was somewhat underwhelming. Broyles cleared his throat.  
"You have a pet cannabis plant, Dr Bishop."

Walter looked confused for a second.  
"What? No, of course not, that's absurd." He ignored Broyles and nudged Peter. "Tap the glass please Peter."

Peter did so, and a huge, black centipede walked sluggishly from under the rock. It was about 9 inches long and Olivia took an involuntary step back, with a look of disgust on her face. Walter beamed.  
"This is Scolopendrax polymorpha, or the giant desert centipede, a native of Arizona and New Mexico. I call this one Doris!"

Astrid moved closed.  
"How do you know it's a she, Walter?" Walter winked at her.  
"It wasn't easy!"

He gathered them all closer except Olivia, who refused to move any closer with a nervous smile.

"This species of centipede bit the unfortunate Mr Dalton over 70 times. The bite on its own is unpleasant but not dangerous – enough to incapacitate you for a couple of days. 70 such bites would be fatal. The problem is that they are solitary animals and exhaust their venom after two bites, so Mr Dalton was bitten by 35 centipedes, and that is inconceivable."  
"So what will this prove?" Broyles was losing patience.  
"Peter?"

Peter put a pair of industrial gloves on and picked up a pair of scissors. He carefully lifted the lid and snipped off the top of the cannabis plant, removing his hand quickly and snapping the lid shut. Nothing happened. The centipede didn't move and they all watched it sit lazily in the centre of the tank.  
"I'm not sure what's supposed to happen" Broyles began, "but I'm guessing it's more than this."

Walter smiled at him in a way that made Broyles feel decidedly uncomfortable.  
"Peter, would you mind?"

Peter smiled.  
"Not a chance Walter."

Walter smiled nervously and leaned into Peter, hissing.

"We've got an audience, just do it!"

Peter held his hands up.  
"Forget it Walter, Invertebrates and I don't get on. Remember the hookworms?" Walter sighed and rolled his eyes.  
"Fine."

He lifted the lid and waved his hand into the vivarium. The reaction was instantaneous. The Centipede literally leapt up towards his hand causing Peter and Astrid to stumble backwards and Olivia to squeal involuntarily. Walter deftly moved his hand out of the way and slammed the lid shut.  
"What the hell was that?"

Astrid was eying the now placid centipede carefully.  
"Pheromones." Walter sat down on a chair next to the vivarium. "The centipede was reacting to a chemical imbalance in its brain caused by a pheromone released by the damaged cannabis plant. The pheromone itself is an artificial genetic modification and a carefully designed one which re-wires the brain of invertebrates and reptiles to attack a target with a unique pheromone signature."

Broyles looked at Peter, who interpreted.  
"These cannabis plants were modified genetically to release a chemical stimulant that makes insects and reptiles attack people."  
"Just insects and reptiles?"  
"And fish and amphibians, but the pheromone doesn't penetrate water and there aren't any dangerous amphibians, so I guess frogs are safe."

Broyles, Astrid and Olivia looked confused.

"The brains of cold-blooded animals are less developed and more easily re-wired chemically than birds and mammals. It doesn't work on us."  
Olivia took half a step forward, eyes not leaving the centipede that had begun to crawl back under its rock.  
"This is a result of genetic modification?"

Walter nodded.  
"The most advanced example I've ever seen."

Broyles looked at Walter.  
"What would you need to perfect this, Dr Bishop?"

Walter thought for a second.  
"You'd need test subjects, access to some extraordinary minds, somewhere you couldn't be disturbed. And you'd need millions of dollars. millions and millions and millions of dollars."  
Olivia and Broyles stared at each other. They'd reached the same conclusions at the same time.  
"Walter…" Olivia began. "Is the sample of cannabis …. viable?"

Walter raised an eyebrow.  
"Well, it's no Kashmir Sapphire, if that's what you mean. In fact, as a narcotic it barely registers on the Bishop-ometer."

Broyles stared at Walter and Peter put his head in his hands.  
"Walter….."  
"Setting aside your 'extra-curricular activities' for a second, Dr Bishop, why would anyone grow cannabis with no narcotic value that kills you when you harvest it?" They mulled this over for a while before Astrid blurted out.  
"Seed Potatoes!"  
They all turned round and stared at her.  
"Seed Potatoes!" It was Walter. "Astrid, that's brilliant!"

Astrid beamed with pride, Peter smiled at Olivia and Broyle's look of confusion.  
"Seed potatoes don't taste nice, nor do they produce much in the way of a crop, but you do use them to breed better potatoes. What if this cannabis crop wasn't for harvesting? What if it was for cross-pollinating with more potent varieties. What if you dust the pollen across existing cannabis fields from the air, the subsequent crop in following years would combine the potency of a high yield variety with the pheromone that causes everything venomous and poisonous for miles around to attack and kill you." Peter paused as Olivia and Broyles caught up.  
"If you send a man to burn the crop, he can be shot. In order to spray them, you need to know where they are. If the crop protects itself, then you don't need to be involved at all."  
Olivia's mind was racing.  
"This is the atom bomb in the war on drugs."

Walter looked at her.  
"I'd say you need to find out who that bank account belongs to."

Broyles and Olivia were spurred into action. Astrid walked over to Walter. He looked at her with genuine pride.  
"Seed potatoes? That was quite brilliant my dear." She smiled at him.  
"What are you going to do with Doris?"

Walter looked at the vivarium.  
"Oh dear, I hadn't really thought of that." He handed her the gloves. "Good luck, my dear. She's a little feisty."


	6. Chapter 6

**PISGAH STATE PARK, CHESTERFIELD, NEW HAMPSHIRE**

Major Stanford Bews stood in the centre of the makeshift camp in the wilds of Pisgah State Park. There were half a dozen large tents surrounded by thick forest with a single track running several miles through the woodland out onto the wider network of trails and roads that criss-crossed the park. Around the perimeter of the camp, several hundred meters in each direction beyond the central glade.

There were 18 other men in the camp. 8 were scientists, each an expert in their own field – genetics, botany, physiology, entomology. The others were members of the US 3rd Rangers battalion and the 1st Reconnaissance Battalion of the US Marine Corps. They had been selected for their experience in maintaining and protecting secret installations behind enemy lines. Bews had selected the men himself, confident of their exceptional skill and ability. He himself had served as a Ranger, until he had been seconded to the research and development arm of the Department of Defence, and given a very special task. A task which, he was told, would help turn the tide in the war on drugs. A task that would help sever the money supply to international terrorist groups. It was a task he was more than happy to deliver.

Beyond the edge of the camp, there were small single acre plots, each growing a single crop. One was growing marijuana, one was growing _papaver somniferum_, the delicate lilac flowers nodding slowly in the breeze, like they were affected by the opiates their seed pods were groaning with. The final plot contained some sickly looking coca plants, the latitude and the temperatures not being conducive to coca production. It didn't matter, the similar camp in Belize would provide better results. There were also camps in out of the way places, run with complete deniability by ex-drug growers and ex-cons. Kumbrabow State Forest in West Virginia, Caprock Canyon State Park, Texas, Oak Mountain, Alabama, Willow Creek, Nebraska and Flambeau River, Wisconsin, all large state parks with areas off the beaten track. Then, of course there was the two sites in New Mexico and Montana – good sites ruined because the 'contractors' had gotten greedy and tried to harvest the crop. A useful (and effective) field test, but something that had alerted Homeland Security. So far, they'd been carefully covering their tracks, but now that the Kumbrabow site had gone quiet, it was time to re-assess the situation. He called over one of the Marines.

"Trenshall, take Slater, get to Manchester International Airport and take a commercial flight to Charleston. Find out what happened at Kumbrabow and if Heller got greedy and did something stupid. If he did, then clean it up, however you can." The two Marines nodded and started back to their tent to pick up their gear. Before they were out of earshot, Bews called after them.

"Don't forget your shots and your suits." They turned and nodded. Bews made his point. "Don't forget. Clean it up, by any means necessary."

He watched the Marines collect their gear, get into a jeep, and start down the track. This project, Project Grey Air, was going south fast. If Kumbrabow had created more bodies, he knew that Homeland security would be all over it, and that was the signal to pack it up and go home.

**KUMBRABOW STATE FOREST, ELKWATER, WEST VIRGINIA**

Trenshall and Slater were dressed as normal hikers to avoid suspicion, the packs on their backs containing their negative pressure suits, pheromone suppression shots, four phosphorous grenades each and a Heckler and Koch MP5. They followed the trail as far as they could and moved off the path, following the GPS co-ordinates towards the site in the park where the tiny plot of genetically modified opium poppies were being grown. The climb was tough, even for Marines trained to operate deep behind enemy lines and the hot summer air and rough terrain was only part of the problem. Both knew and understood that the experiment site, if compromised, was a death trap, and in warm air, the pheromones penetrated a further distance away from the site. Both privately prayed that the GPS mapping of the site was accurate.

500 metres from the site, both men stopped and took their pheromone suppressant injections. They then took out their suits and put them on, masking their pheromones from the outside atmosphere. Finally, they took out their sub-machine guns and advaced on the site.

They knew straight away, once they penetrated the woodland and moved into the isolated glade, that Heller had indeed let his greed get the better of him. The poppies were past their best, the glade floor was covered with lilac petals and few of the plants had intact flowers left, their place taken by bulbous, green and immature seed heads. Trenshall had seen action with the Corps in Colombia and Venezuela and he knew better than most what heroin production looked like. The second he stepped into the glade and saw the heads of the poppies scored and cut, white sticky fluid oozing from each cut, he knew that Heller was dead. He held his hand up so Slater knew they were entering a hot zone.

It only took a couple of minutes to locate Heller's body. He hadn't been dead long, as his body was still crawling with fire ants, yellowjackets, hornets and a couple of copperhead snakes. Trenshall felt sick. Their suits and shots prevented the animals from attacking them, so they took out their phosphorous grenades, set them with a fifteen minute timer and planted them amongst the crop. Satisfied that the whole crop was covered, they hauled ass.

A safe distance away, they sat on a rock overlooking the site and stripped off their suits and packed away their guns. They then watched, wordlessly as the phosphorous grenades exploded, setting a huge fire that consumed the whole glade.

"That was pretty screwed up, Man." Slater was lighting a cigarette.  
"Yeah." Trenshall watched the fire burn. "It sure as hell ain't why I joined the Marines."

Slater nodded.  
"What the Hell are we doing here? Cleaning frigging house for a bunch of science geeks."  
Trenshall thought long and hard. He'd seen enough drug fields to know that the drugs trade was run by people who rarely got their hands dirty. The hard work, the growing, irrigating and harvesting was done by the poorest, most desperate people on the planet. People often working in near servitude, often at gunpoint, often for twenty hours a day, just to put food on their table. It would be them that faced the brunt of this new weapon. They would be the ones who took the casualties. It didn't seem fair.  
"You know what, Johnny? Screw Bews and screw this."

Slater looked at him.  
"What are you saying Sarge?"  
"I'm saying that this mission is BS. I'm not gonna help kill thousands of poor peasants just for trying to earn a living to feed their kids. You want me to go after the head honchos, I'll do it. Want me to assassinate the head of the Medellin cartels, I'll be at the front of the line, but I ain't gonna help massacre a bunch of the most destitute people on the planet."  
Slater nodded his agreement. He drew on his smoke.  
"So what do we do? Marines follow orders, Man."  
Trenshall thought for a second.  
"I'll follow every order I'm given. I'm just thinking about giving someone a call."  
"Who?"  
"A chick who used to be a Marine and now works for the FBI. She was tough people." He looked over at the blazing hillside. "I hope she still is."


	7. Chapter 7

HARVARD UNIVERSITY, BOSTON

"Dunham!" Olivia answered her phone expecting half a dozen people to be on the other end. This wasn't one of them however.  
"Lieutentant Dunham?"

Olivia did a double-take at the name the voice on the phone had called her.  
"Not for a long time. Who is this?"  
"My name isn't important, we worked on a case together when you were still in the Corps."  
"There's half a million people in the Marine Corps. You want to narrow it down?" Olivia had lowered her voice. The voice was clipped and deep, but she didn't recognise it.  
"Not really. I need you to meet me. I have information on a murder."  
Olivia laughed.  
"Then I suggest that you talk to JAG. I get a pension these days."  
"These ain't corps. They're ex-cons."

Olivia stopped dead.  
"How did they die?"  
"In person, not over the phone, you wouldn't believe me."

Olivia took out a pad and pen.  
"OK. Where and when?"  
"There's a town in West Virginia called Elkwater. At the end of Church Street there's a bar called Woody's. I'll meet you there Tonight, 10pm."  
Olivia looked at her watch and put her phone on mute. She called Astrid over.  
"Astrid, you know West Virginia right?"  
Astrid beamed.  
"Born and raised. Almost heaven..."  
"How long to drive to Elkwater?"  
Astrid shrugged.  
"From Here? 12 hours."

Olivia took her phone off mute.  
"I'll see you then. How will I know you?"  
"You'll know me." the phone went dead. Olivia closed it and turned to Astrid.  
"Feel like a field trip?"

US ROUTE 219, 5 MILES SOUTH OF ELKWATER, WEST VIRGINIA

"So why me?"  
Astrid and Olivia were driving through the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains as the sun set behind the wooded peaks. The road was empty and the drive from Charleston Airport and been largely silent, until this point.  
"What?"

Olivia looked round at Astrid. Astrid was staring out of the window up at the rows of fir trees disappearing up into the darkness of twilight.  
"Why me?" Astrid turned to look at Olivia. "Why not Peter?"

Olivia looked surprised.  
"You didn't want to come?"  
"Of course I did, I just kind of figure you and Peter as partners, that's all."

Olivia smiled.  
"Well, this is your home, a bit of local knowledge never does any harm." Olivia turned her eyes from the road. "Besides, we deserve a bit of quality time now and again, don't we?"  
Astrid smiled and went back to looking out of the window.  
"So how long did you live here?"  
Astrid eased herself back into the passenger seat and stretched her aching legs.  
"Born in Huntington, Daddy was the Sheriff of Tucker County, up on the border with Virginia. Lived here all my life until I went off to College."  
"Blue-collar girl eh?"  
"Yep, and proud of it." Astrid was still staring at the mountains climbing into the dusk. "Don't realise how much I miss the place until I come back."  
After ten minutes or so they reached the outer edge of Elkwater and, following the direction on the map, parked the car on the opposite side of the street. Olivia took out the her phone. Peter answered.  
"Hey Olivia, I'm putting you on Speaker. Agent Broyles and Walter are here."  
"Were at the place Deep Throat wanted us to be at. Did you trace the call?"  
Broyles spoke up.  
"Best we can tell, it came from the public payphone in Elkwater. We've tried running voice recognition, but we've come up short so far."  
"OK. It's 9.50pm. We'll give it 10 minutes before we go in. Peter, you and Walter figure out a way of countering this pheromone yet?"  
"Not yet, we're working on it."  
"Olivia?" It was Walter's Voice.  
"Yes Walter?"  
"You mentioned Deep Throat?"  
"That's right Walter."  
"I saw that movie once. Very...stimulating. Anatomically absurd, of course, no-one could possibly develop sex organs in their oesophagus..."  
"Thanks Walter, not that Deep Throat"

Olivia and Astrid both smiled as Peter cut his father off. There was a slight click on the phone as Peter took it off speaker.  
"Olivia, you and Astrid be careful OK?" Olivia looked at her watch.  
"We'll be fine Peter. I'll call when we're done." She cut the call off and put her phone away, before turning to Astrid.  
"You ready?"  
"Yes Ma'am."  
"OK then, let's do it."

WOODYS BAR, ELKWATER, WEST VIRGINIA

The bar was almost empty, and was a spit and sawdust place with wooden tables and chairs, a big empty fireplace and a TV showing a baseball game in the corner. There were a couple of old guys playing cards at one table and a couple in their 60's sat near the bar, watching the game. The Only other patrons were two kids, barely out of their teens, playing pool. Both looked up in interest when Olivia and Astrid entered the Bar. The Barman, a large, flat-faced man with a check shirt and an apron on was cleaning glasses behind the bar. They walked up to him.  
Olivia flashed her badge.  
"You Woody?" The barman laughed.  
"Sweetheart, there ain't no Woody. The guy I bought this place off was called Joe. I guess he liked woodpeckers, what can I say?" He put his glass down and reached under the bar and took out a package. It was wrapped in brown paper and cellotaped up. He put it on the bar. "This is for you."

Olivia looked at it.  
"What is it?"  
"No idea. A big black guy left it for you a couple of hours ago, said you'd be in at 10, and could I give it to you. Left a couple of 20s behind here too, if you want a drink and some eats. We got great ribs!"  
"OK" began Olivia carefully, watching the package suspiciously. "I'll have a makers mark. Astrid?"  
"I'll have a beer." Like Olivia, she was eyeing the package.  
They took their drinks and the untouched package to a corner table. It was about the size of a deck of cards, and it was light.  
"You think the guy is around still?"  
Olivia shook her head.  
"He's long gone."  
"So what the hell are we doing here?"  
"Only one way to find out." Olivia took a flick knife out and cut through one side of the wrapping, opening it carefully with the blade. There was no plastic, and no wires. That was a good start, so she carefully cut away the rest of the wrapping and took out the contents. There was a cassette tape, a photograph and a letter. She set the letter and the tape aside and looked at the photograph. It was of a dead man, one of the men they had recovered at the site in New Mexico. She passed it to Astrid and read the letter.

_Dear Lieutenant Dunham._

_I cannot meet you face to face, nor can you know who I am. All you need to know is that I am a Marine, that I love my country and because I love America, I can't sit idly by and watch as people commit, and plan to commit, horrific acts in her name. I know you understand why I had to leave this package for you._

_There are people in the Department of Defense, working with foreign governments, in an attempt to design the ultimate weapon in the war on drugs. This weapon has been field tested in Montana, New Mexico and was accidentally used here in West Virginia. The results of the weapon can be seen in this photograph._

_Ma'am, I have served my country in Colombia and I know that this weapon works. It will bring an end to drug production for ever. It will also kill thousands of innocent farmers, who's only crime is to be born poor and desperate. I cannot condone this, nor do I wish to be part of it. You must stop this before more people die._

_If you require proof, then these are the rest of the test sites._

_Caprock Canyon State Park, Texas,_  
_Oak Mountain, Alabama_  
_Willow Creek, Nebraska _  
_Flambeau River, Wisconsin_  
_Pisgah State Park, New Hampshire_

_The Tape included has all the information I know on Project Bloodhound and the man leading it, an ex-Ranger called Bews. I hope it's enough, my conscience is bloodstained enough._

_Semper Fi._

They listened to the tape on the rental car stereo. It set out everything except the science. Olivia and Astrid listened in disbelief. The voice talked for twenty minutes and Astrid took notes as they listened. When it was done, Olivia started the car.  
"We need to get back to the Lab. We need to find an antidote to this thing."  
Astrid looked at Olivia.  
"What are you going to do?"  
"Looks like I'm going to New Hampshire."


	8. Chapter 8

HARVARD UNIVERSITY, BOSTON

"We have Field Office SWAT units alongside field agents ready to go in Texas, Alabama, Nebraska and Wisconsin." Broyles was laying out the situation as Olivia was checking her SIG and body armour. "We're picking up New Hampshire site. Captain Baker and the Hostage Rescue Team will be providing tactical support and surveillance." Baker was staring wide-eyed at the contents of Walter's lab. Peter was sat on a desk trying to figure out how to put his body armour on. Astrid and Walter were nowhere to be seen.  
"Captain Baker!" Broyles clicked his fingers and Baker shifted his attention from Gene to Broyles.  
"Sir!"  
"Would you like to brief Special Agent Dunham and Mr Bishop?"  
Baker coughed.  
"Certainly Sir. We've arranged high-altitude photo reconnaisance from the 104th Fighter Wing, Massachusetts Air National Guard and they identified this area..." He pointed to an open area on a photograph. "...as being a likely field test site. It's a long way from anywhere, a four hour hike in and four hours out and we'll have to carry our equipment in."  
Olivia holstered her gun.  
"Sir," she directed her comments at Broyles. "Has Captain Baker and the other teams been briefed about the...complications?"  
Baker answered on Broyles behalf.  
"Special Agent Dunham, we know we need to avoid walking on the grass..."  
Peter smiled at the joke.  
"The other teams," began Broyles, "...will be holding off and waiting on the success of your arrests. They are all aware of the special circumstances of this case."  
At that point, Walter and Astrid came back in the room. Walter was carrying a box with him and Astrid was carrying another, larger box. Walter was smiling to himself until he saw Peter trying to put on the body armour. His face dropped.  
"Peter, what are you doing?"  
Peter looked up.  
"What does it look like, Walter? I'm trying to figure out Rubic's Kevlar."  
"You're not going out there...are you?" Walter looked like he might cry, so Peter stood up and put a hand on his shoulder.  
"Don't worry Walter, I'll be a long way behind everyone else."  
"We need him, Walter", it was Olivia. "I need someone with me who knows what we're dealing with. I'll keep him safe."

Peter and Olivia exchanged a glance and Walter saw it, and his mood brightened a bit.  
"Well, if you're insistent on going, then I have something for you that may help." Walter opened the box he was carrying. He took out a small vial of fluid. "This will mask your pheromonic signature, if the plants release the chemicals, you can inject this and it will offer you some protection."  
"Some?" Peter raised an eyebrow.  
"You'll need to use bodysuits - the kind that the CDC use when dealing with pathogens. There are 40 suits in the box Astrid has." Astrid handed the box to Baker, who tucked it under a meaty forearm. Walter continued. "You'll have around a minute to get the suit on and inject yourself with the liquid. Do not delay!"  
Olivia eyed the liquid carefully.  
"How does it work?"  
Walter spoke slowly and deliberately.  
"It masks your human pheromones with a different set of chemical indicators. Different enough, I hope, so that any affected wildlife will not perceive you as human, and won't attack you."  
"You Hope...?" Began Peter, finally getting his body armour on.  
"I haven't really had time to test it..." Walter protested.  
"That's great, just great." Peter sounded exaspirated.

Olivia stood up.  
"What does it mask us with, Walter?"  
"Well, my dear, I didn't have much time, and there are a limited number of suitable donors..."  
"Oh God..." Peter realised as he saw the direction Walter was gazing. "It's Gene isn't it?"

Walter smiled nervously. Baker looked confused.  
"I don't understand."

Peter smiled and slapped him on the shoulder.  
"Captain Baker, the second you inject the liquid, to every cold-blooded living thing in Pisgah State Park, you'll be a 650 lb Friesian Cow."

PISGAH STATE PARK, NEW HAMPSHIRE

The Hostage Rescue Team, Broyles, Olivia and Peter congregated in the main car park after dark. They had driven the last three miles with lights off to avoid alerting anyone that they were coming, and had dismounted from the three unmarked vans silently. Once they were clear of the vehicles, Captain Baker gathered them close and began the final briefing. As this was a tactical operation, he had practical command of the operation.

"All right, listen up. Our aim is to arrive at the perimeter of the field site around an hour before sunrise. According to Special Agent Dunham here, the site is being guarded by US Marine Corps officers, and possibly Army Rangers. We must assume that the perimeter is tripped and that there is likely to be surveillance. Be careful where you tread and expect to meet resistance. Our goal today is to prevent the drug crop in the clearing being harvested or damaged, accidentally or deliberately. I hope to do that without casualties if we can, but our over-riding priority is to secure the site without damage. Each of you has a hypodermic syringe and a full body suit. Mr Bishop here..." He put a hand on Peter's shoulder, and Peter raised an arm. "...has a gizmo that measures and tests the air for changes in composition. If you hear him give the instruction, inject yourselves and put on your suits. If you don't do so, you're liable to have a pretty lousy morning." A young HRT officer raised his hand. Baker looked annoyed. "What the hell is it, Mendes?"  
"Sir, what the hell is going on up there - chemical weapons?"  
Baker smiled.  
"Son, if I told you, you'd never believe me. OK any more questions?" There were none. "Good, then let's get going."

The HRT Officers started up the mountain with Olivia and Broyles in front. Baker put his hand on Peter's shoulders and steered him to one of the vans, out of site of Olivia and Broyles. He spoke quietly.  
"Bishop, I've led these kids for five years, and I'm not going to lead them up a mountain to die because your dad got stoned and filled these syringes with Dr Pepper."

Peter looked Baker in the eye.  
"I'm here, aren't I? Walter might be flaky, and by flaky, I mean insane, but this stuff...this stuff we're dealing with, the stuff that makes your head spin, there's no-one on the planet you want on your side more than Walter Bishop."  
Satisfied, Baker reached into the back of the van and handed Peter a pump-action shotgun and a box of rounds.  
"Fair enough Mr Bishop. You know why I had to ask." Peter nodded and Baker continued. "Good. You know I meant no disrespect. And no-one goes on an operation like this under my watch unarmed, I don't care what Agent Dunham says. You know how to use one of these?" Peter loaded the shotgun and chambered the first round. Baker smiled. "Good, try not to shoot anyone and if you have to, make sure it's not one of us. Lets go."

* * * * *

The group stopped about half a mile from the clearing. Behind them, through the pines, the blackness of the night sky was etched with the first inky blue in the sky as the dawn approached in the eastern heavens. Peter, who had managed to keep up with the FBI agents at the cost of seriously burning lungs and sore calves and shins, plonked himself down in the leaf litter besides Olivia. She looked at him and the shotgun he was using to support himself with.  
"Where the hell did you get that?"  
"Baker gave it to me." He looked at her angry face. "Why does it bother you?"  
"Because, Peter, if you have a gun, you're more likely to get shot at and I don't want people shooting at you."  
Peter smiled.  
"That's nice, Olivia, but people are going to be shooting at me anyway."  
Baker hushed them both.  
"I gave him the gun Agent Dunham, because no-one comes on an operation with me unarmed. No exceptions."

Olivia glared at him but didn't say anything else. Baker continued to the group.  
"From this point on, we go in silent. No-one talks to anyone, except Peter, and only if that thingy he has shows the air chemistry changing. Watch for tripwires, watch for pyrotechnics and let's try to get in there un-noticed."

* * * * *

In the clearing, Bews was commanding his men as they dismantled the camp. The scientists were gone, sent ahead with their equipment and all that was left was being packed into three Jeeps by the six remaining Army Rangers. Their attention focussed elsewhere, they didn't notice the HRT group approach until they were on the edge of the clearing, when one of them tripped a pyrotechnic tripwire and a roman candle went off scattering Bews and the Rangers, guns in hands, for the cover of their vehicles. There was a voice, loud and clear in the still night air that came from the edge of the clearing. It was Broyles.  
"General Bews, this is the FBI. Order your men to put down their weapons and surrender."  
Ruskin, a tall, sandy-haired Ranger clutched his AR-15 and looked at Bews, cowering next to him behind a truck.  
"Sir, Feds. What do we do?"  
Bews looked at the soldier, fury dancing in his eyes. They had ruined this, the best chance they had of ending the war on drugs with a single, devastating blow. They had removed the one chance they had of wiping out most of the world's terrorism funding. This was going to be his crowning glory, his greatest victory, and instead of the glory, here he was, hiding behind his own jeep like a shoplifter. No, it wasn't going to end this way.  
"What do you think? Open fire!"  
Ruskin looked at Bews in astonishment.  
"You're kidding! I'm not shooting at the FBI. I'm a soldier! What the hell are they doing here anyway - this is supposed be a sanctioned operation."  
Bews took out his Beretta and shot Ruskin twice in the chest. The gunfire rattled around the mountainside and for a second all was quiet, before the pre-dawn stillness was shattered by the combined gunfire of the FBI and the remaining Army Rangers, each convinced that the other side had started first. Bews saw his opportunity and ran, Ruskin's pained eyes following him with every step he took as he moved carefully into the field of head-high opium poppies.

* * * * *

The first that Peter knew he'd been shot was when he realised he was lying on his back, the backpack he was carrying crushed behind him. He felt no pain, which he imagined was odd. Peter had never been shot, so he had no frame of reference, but he did imagine it would hurt worse than this. He heaved himself onto his knees and took cover behind a pine tree trunk and checked himself. He felt no pain, so he took off the backpack and examined it. There was a great ragged hole in the side of it, with a larger exit hole through the back of the pack.  
"That's lucky" he thought, under his breath. He pulled out the protective suit and saw the jagged tear across the leg and arm and groaned to himself. Next he searched for the plastic case with the hypodermic and Walter's pheromone masking agent. It was intact and he sighed with relief. The sun began to creep over the top of the mountain, bathing them in the first light of the morning and he pulled himself close to a tree trunk, slipping the syringe into his pocket and throwing the now useless pack away. He peeked around the tree, looking to see if he could spot Olivia, but he was forced to retreat when a bullet whistled over his head.

He took another look, just in time to see one of the Rangers, who had moved out of cover, shot and collapse on the edge of the field of poppies. Had he damaged any of the plants?

Panicked, he checked the air chemistry detector, only to find that it had been smashed when he had fallen to the ground. Now was no time for taking chances.  
"Take the masking agent!" he yelled into his radio. "Put your suits on!"

* * * * * * * *

Olivia, hearing Peter's voice, closed her eyes in a silent prayer of gratitude, then stuck the syringe in the fleshy part of her thigh and injected the agent. She then removed her suit from the backpack and put the respirator over her head. She then picked up her SIG and began to move into the clearing. The Rangers, realising they were outgunned and with no real taste for shooting at their own, had put their guns down and were lying on the ground. She noticed other body -suited figures in FBI body armour moving in for the tree line. One of the Rangers shouted out that they had an injured man down. Olivia moved towards the sound of the voice and saw one of the Rangers tending Ruskin.  
"He's been shot. Small calibre. He says Bews did it."  
Olivia looked at him and shouted the HRT medic over. Ruskin gripped her suit.  
"He went into the Poppy field."

Olivia nodded. She turned to the HRT Medic.  
"Get this man out of here now. Get everyone out of here now."  
"What are you doing?" The HRT medic didn't get an answer, as Olivia was already gone.

* * * * *

Peter had stuck himself with the hypodermic, but Walter's words about the serum being untested rang in his ears. In their suits anyone could be Olivia, so he went from HRT agent to HRT agent looking for her. They were keen to get the hell out of there and he moved between them eliminating each as Olivia until he got to the HRT Medic.  
"Where's Dunham?"  
The HRT Medic pointed towards the Poppy Field and Peter's face fell.  
"That's just marvellous. Where's she going?"  
"She went after Bews."

Broyles arrived.  
"Peter, where's your suit?"  
"Useless. You have to get everybody out of here, Broyles." Broyles looked at him through the respirator on his suit.  
"Where are you going, Peter?"  
"After Olivia".

Broyles got up of his haunches.  
"Not a chance." Peter didn't have the time or inclination to argue.  
"Broyles, she'd do the same for me, it's what partners do. Just get these people to a safe place. Please." Broyles looked at him for a second and barked the order. Before they left, he turned to Peter.  
"Find her, Peter. Get yourselves back safely."  
Peter nodded solemnly and moved quickly and carefully into the Poppy field.

* * * * * *

Olivia couldn't see anything. The poppies were head-high and the respirator she was wearing eliminated her peripheral vision, so she was pleased to see the plants begin to thin out as she reached the other end of the field. What she didn't see, as she emerged into the open, was Bews appear a split second behind her, raise the butt of his gun and bring it crashing down on the back of her neck.

* * * * *

Peter emerged from the Poppy field and looked anxiously around. There was no sign of Olivia. He moved into the trees beyond the edge of the clearing but a snap of twigs made him stop and turn round. Bews was stood, framed against the purple poppy flowers. He held Olivia tightly, his Beretta placed against her temple.  
"Put your gun down."  
Peter trained the shotgun on Bews.  
"Put her down Bews, or I'll cut you in half."  
Bews laughed.  
"I don't think so. You've picked the wrong tool for the job. Shoot me, and you'll kill us both. Is that what you want? Put the gun down, and only you have to die." Olivia shook her head wildly and was shouting something at him, but the sound was muffled from behind the respirator.  
Peter knew the second he put the shotgun down he was dead. He also knew that Bews was right, he couldn't get a round off without injuring Olivia. He knew his choice had been made. He smiled slightly to himself.  
"I thought I'd get stung or bitten to death coming up here, so I guess you've got to appreciate the irony."

Then it struck him. Where were the bees? The wasps, the snakes and scorpions? Perhaps the shot Ranger hadn't fallen onto the poppy field as he had assumed. It was at that point he realised that there was a third choice open to him. He smiled. He chambered a round. Bews smiled.  
"You're not that lucky."  
"Luck?" Peter's voice was steady. "Not luck, just a decent grasp of science."

He then unloaded the shotgun into the field of Poppies, watching as the flowers exploded and stringy fragments of leaf and stem flew into the air. Bews looked aghast.  
"Do you know what you've done? You've killed us all!"

He dropped Olivia and began firing wildly in Peter's direction as he moved to the edge of the clearing. None of the rounds went close to him, and Peter moved towards Olivia, picking her up and cradling her in his arms.  
"Liv, are you OK?" She nodded her head and began to take off the respirator. Peter stopped her. "What are you doing? We need to get out of here." In the air there was a faint buzzing noise somewhere behind them, and they heard Bews scream once, then again, then silence.  
He helped Olivia to her feet and as they began to move off, Peter felt a pinprick on his ankle. At his feet, a small, brown snake, tail angrily rattling was coiled, ready to strike again. He deftly dodged as it moved to strike again and they moved off quickly, Olivia recovering her gun from the ground.  
"Unless that's a well disguised can of Raid," Peter began, "…you might want to concentrate on moving rather than shooting."

* * * * * * * *

Their pace dropped after half an hour or so. They hadn't noticed any unusual insect activity for the previous ten minutes or so, so Olivia took her suit off. Her hair was matted against her head and there was a large and ugly bruise forming where Bews had struck her, but otherwise she was OK. She looked at Peter, who had begun to sweat.  
"Are you OK?"  
He smiled, but it wasn't convincing.  
"I was bitten. Prairie rattlesnake I think. In the ankle."

Olivia looked at him in horror.  
"Peter!"

He shrugged.  
"What was I going to do? I don't have the antivenom, and I wasn't going to sit there. I've got another 2 hours before I go into shock." He said it matter of factly. Olivia examined his ankle which had already started to swell. She looked up at him, tears in her eyes.  
"We won't be back to the bottom of the mountain before then."

Peter laughed.  
"Hey, look on the bright side, at least I wasn't eaten by turtles!"  
"No!" Olivia blinked the tears away. "Not you. I won't let it happen."  
"Liv, Honey, there's not much either of us can do about it."  
She ignored him and got up, looking at the map, she then started running.  
"Liv!" Peter called after her. "Olivia!"  
After about five minutes she returned and dragged him off through the trees. after a couple of minutes, they came to a clearing in the trees with a ruined hunters lodge in the centre.  
"You wait here." Olivia put Peter down on the ruined porch of the tatty wooden building.  
"Where are you going?"  
"To get you some help". Peter looked at Olivia sadly.  
"Liv, it's two hours down the mountain and two hours back. I don't have that kind of time." Olivia held his head in her hands.  
"I'm not going to lose you Peter Bishop. I won't. I can't. Just hold on for as long as you can."

He looked into her pained, tear-filled eyes.  
"Olivia, I...I"  
"Save it. You can tell me later." With that she was gone, sprinting for the woods as Peter watched her go. Once she was gone, and he knew she was gone, Peter put his hands over his face and began to cry.

* * * * * *

He didn't know what time it was, or where he was. He was vaguely aware of the wind on his face, a face that was wet with perspiration and creased with the agonising pain he felt in his leg. Everything was white, and he couldn't tell if his eyes were open or closed. Somewhere, a long way away, he could hear talking, shouting but it sounded faint and muffled. An image formed somehow. He wasn't sure how, but he could just make out a man in black combat fatigues, shouting at him. He couldn't answer. Behind the man was someone with a desperate expression and long, blonde flowing hair. She gripped his hand but he couldn't feel. There was a prick in his arm, it was a sting that barely penetrated the wall of pain he felt, then the whiteness returned and he embraced its warmth and comfort.

MEMORIAL HOSPITAL, CONCORD, NEW HAMPSHIRE

Peter slowly dragged himself into consciousness. His head felt woolly and he ached pretty much all over. He noticed it was dark in the room, and he tried to sit up, but something was stopping him. There were tubes running out of his arm. He felt a hand on his shoulder.  
"Son, you're awake!"

Walter leaned over and kissed Peter's head. Peter, even through his medically induced haze could see that Walter had been crying.  
"Walter..."

Peter's voice sounded weak and croaky, even to himself.  
"Don't get up son. You've been bitten by a rattlesnake. You were unconscious when they found you." Walter looked at the floor. "I thought you were going to die."

Peter grasped Walter's hand.  
"But I didn't Walter. Thanks to your potion."

Walter looked up.  
"But it didn't work did it? You were bitten!"

Peter tried to smile, but it wasn't very successful.  
"Yeah, but I'm still here. That's more than can be said for anyone else exposed to this thing."

Walter smiled at him.  
"I brought you pudding!" He placed an empty pudding cup on the tray over Peter's bed.  
"It's empty, Walter."  
"Yes, well, you were unconscious for 17 hours and when I'm anxious, I eat a lot of pudding, so it's really your own fault!"

Despite himself, Peter laughed.  
"I guess so." As he spoke, Astrid walked into his room.  
"Peter, you're OK!" She hugged him fiercely and Peter winced. "Ooops. Sorry!" Peter smiled.  
"I'm pleased to see you too Astrid. Listen, can you take Walter to find some more pudding..." He saw Olivia hovering by the door, hair down and looking more beautiful than he'd ever seen her. Her face was a mix of joy and pain. Astrid smiled and hugged him again. As she did so, she whispered in his ear.  
"She made it down the mountain in an hour and five minutes and collapsed when she got to the HRT Agents. They flew you out and gave you the first dose of antivenom. She saved your life." Astrid surrendered her grip and smiled at Peter who smiled back. "Come on Walter, let's find you something to eat - we'll come back in a little while.  
With the room to themselves, Olivia came and sat next to Peter's bed, taking his hand in hers.  
"How are you feeling?"  
"Like someone dropped me from a third floor balcony. But I'm alive, thanks to you. Bews?"  
Olivia looked away.  
"Dead. The Army rangers we shot both made it, thankfully. The other sites were taken without loss of life."  
"What about the drugs?"  
"Bombed from the air with Napalm. The fires are being put out by aerial bombardment. No-one in the DoD will admit to anything, they claim Bews had gone rogue."  
Peter laughed bitterly.  
"Of course they do." His expression lightened. "Anyway, at least I live to fight another day."  
Olivia smiled.  
"Yeah Bishop, you owe me!"

Peter raised an eyebrow and grinned.  
"How can I repay you, baring in mind my delicate medical state?"  
Olivia leaned over and whispered in his ear.  
"Oh, I can think of one way..."

OZARK MOUNTAINS, ARKANSAS

Ella ran ahead of Olivia as they moved up the trail. She was chasing a butterfly that bobbed and weaved through the air and evaded Ella's net with contemptuous ease. Olivia laughed as she watched her niece dance after the insect. The air was still warm even though it was well into September, and they were close to the campsite where they'd spend the night, sat round the campfire, toasting marshmallows and telling PG-rated ghost stories.  
"Aunt Liv we're here!" Ella called as they walked onto the campsite. It was empty, too early for the hunters and too late for the summer vacationers. It was perfect. It felt like they had the whole mountain to themselves.  
Tents up, fire made and marshmallows toasting on sticks, they sat round the fire, Ella nestled in Olivia's arms, wrapped warmly in a blanket. Rachel would be enjoying her spa weekend, sat in a mud bath drinking tequila and watching Football. Olivia didn't begrudge her sister a little alone time - she'd earned it, and it gave her time to spend with Ella, which she always treasured.  
"Aunt Liv?"  
"What is it poppet?"  
"I think it's time for a ghost story, don't you?" Olivia nodded solemnly.  
"I agree."  
Ella smiled and turned her head.  
"Uncle Peter. You go first."  
Peter looked sagely at the sun setting behind the peaks to the west, casting long shadows across the deserted camping ground.  
"A ghost story, eh? Something to frighten my two favourite girls...let's see. Yes, I think this might do the trick..." 


End file.
